Dogs vs. Cats

I have noticed recently that most of my friends and I have something in common—more than just bad judgement in choosing friends—we are dog-owners. This is not to say that I have no cat-owning friends, just that the vast majority of my friends and acquaintances have dogs. As I write this, I think of my sister and one of my nieces who own cats and I’m sure they will take exception to what I am about to write. Indeed, one of the hot button topics that probably should be avoided at family gatherings in addition to politics and religion is the whole dog vs. cat thing. People are pretty dialed in with regards to their opinions where this topic is concerned, so there’s no way to write about it without running afoul of someone’s tender feelings. But that sort of thing has never stopped me before.

I had lunch with one of my rare cat-owner friends the other day. We got to talking about this topic and he shared that one of his objections to dogs is the fact that their owners are expected to follow them around picking up their feces and placing it in small, paper-thin plastic bags—a ritual that he found disgusting beyond measure. I looked at him with the incredulous face of someone encountering the worst argument ever made against dogs and for cats. I looked at him for a second and then replied, “Ok, so you prefer cats—who defecate and urinate—in your house??  Thus began a spirited back and forth:

Friend: Yes, but they are trained to do so in the litter box which is stowed away in the utility room!

Me: Who in the name of all that is holy came up with the term LITTER BOX?? A cat owner, that’s who. It’s not litter that gets thrown in there. Your cat doesn’t throw soda cans and gum wrappers in there. He poops and pees in there, in a box full of God knows what kind of carcinogenic particles that make your entire house smell like cat poop and pee tinged vaguely with lilac.

Friend: Maybe. But at least I don’t have to pick up after him.

Me: Are you kidding? Who cleans out the litter box?

Friend: That’s what wives are for dude!

I almost resorted to my dog vs. cat ending argument, but decided that he had suffered enough, especially after he described the feline in question. It’s basically his wife’s cat. He tolerates it. He described the animal to me in the sort of way one describes a particularly wayward child. “He means well…” he began. “He was quite cute as a kitten. But then his eyes opened and all hell broke loose. He loves my wife. I say this due to the fact that he has never tried to gouge her eyes out, and he only hisses menacingly at her if she is late with breakfast or dinner.” So after that, I let it go. No need to rub salt in the wound.

But here’s the thing. I have never understood the basic value proposition that a cat brings to the table. With dogs it is self evident. To your dog, you are the greatest person in the entire universe. You hang the moon and the stars. When you leave in the morning they count the minutes until your return where they greet you like a conquering hero. Cats are emotional, spiritual and physical free agents. Your value to them is utilitarian. If you feed them promptly, they allow you to live. If you annoy them in even the slightest way they will hold a grudge for weeks. A dog doesn’t even know what a grudge is.

And then there’s the undeniable fact that cats will not be allowed in heaven.

I can hear the plaintiff cries from all of you cat lovers out there in the Blogosphere as you rend your garments at my words. Let me explain.

From the time you bring your adorable puppy home from the breeder/pound/rescue shelter, that little fur ball comes to believe that you are God. You are the source of all good and great blessings in his world. In much the same way as we worship God, dogs worship us. Cats, on the other hand, very early on in their tenure as the new owners of your house, come to the realization that they are God. And as we all know, the sin of pride is number one on any list of things that God cannot abide. Since no blasphemy can enter heaven, the cats will be left to their own devices.

I’m not trying to make the case that all cats are maniacal creatures and all dogs are benevolent angels. But do the math, people. How many people have been saved from burning houses by…cats? How many burglars have been foiled by the bone chilling sound of a…hissing cat? How many drowning children have been pulled out of raging rivers by heroic…cats? How many times have people been pulled out of collapsed buildings by the tenacious and fearless ethic of life saving…cats? When is the last time you saw a bomb-sniffing cat at the airport? On the other hand, what percentage of allergy-related deaths are caused by cat dander? 

I rest my case.

Now it’s time for me to sit perfectly still and quiet so Lucy will feel safe enough to eat her dinner. That is—if the ghosts flying around the living room ceiling fan will stop distracting the poor thing.